The Times They Are A Changin'
by The-Rebel-Spong
Summary: "...I was resurrected from the Lake of Souls by Mr Tiny and granted one chance to return to earth; to change my future and prevent the War of Scars. With Evanna's help I was transported back in time to the early 1900's where I had one shot to change my future and the futures of those I love. I need to prevent Mr Crepsley from taking an assistant by any means necessary."
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue**_

Darren groaned, his head throbbing and his body burning.

"Evanna?" he said in a croaking voice, throat feeling swollen as he sat up and gingerly opened his eyes.

It was night time and he was in a dark alleyway, strong smells of faeces and urine flooding his senses as he began coughing and gagging.

"Evanna?" he called once more, struggling to stand on his wobbly legs, using a slimy wall to slide himself upright. He dare not remove his hands from it as he finally gained a little control.

_Where was he?_

He remembered Mr Tiny and Evanna

…_the lake of souls…_

…_something important…_

His hands ran down his body, fingering the alien outfit he was wearing. A quick glance down confirmed that he had on a shirt and waist coat, black trousers tucked into horrific socks and a pair of light brown leather brogues. Where the Hell did these clothes come from? He looked like a plonker for sure; something out of a history book.

With an angry growl, he studied his hair with his fingers; so used to a heavy mane of black, all he could feel was a short crop of heavily gelled hair slicked back off his face.

"Evanna!" He yelled, attempting to charge out of the alley; determined to find that wench and force her to spill. Of course, as he stepped forwards he fell instantly, landing in a puddle of sludge which saw him near vomit. As he struggled back to his feet, he felt something heavy in the pocket of his trousers.

Once far away from the dirty puddle he explored his pocket, a small grin streaking across his muddy face as he brushed his fingers across the cover of his diary, relishing the feel of the scuffed leather cover.

As though on instinct, Darren flipped to the very last page in his diary, a wide smile spreading across his lips. Evanna had filled in the last few pages for him, offering him direction and a rough update on where he was and what he was to do. His memory returned with an almost stabbing pain as everything made sense once again and he remembered where he was and what he must do.

'…_I was resurrected from the Lake of Souls by Mr Tiny and granted one chance to return to earth; to change my future and prevent the War of Scars. With Evanna's help I was transported back in time to the early 1900's where I had one shot, absolutely only one chance, to change my future and the futures of those I love. I need to prevent Mr Crepsley from taking an assistant by __**any**__ means necessary.'_

A loud and familiar laugh caught Darren's attention as he looked up sharply, shoving the book into his pocket once more as he glared out upon the dark entrance. His eyes widened as a group of young men –vampire males by the smell of them- walked past wearing similarly stupid attire as Darren was at that moment. However, only one man was of total interest to Darren.

With a crop of bright orange hair gelled and parted handsomely to the side, wearing a dark black suit and carrying a bottle of alcohol, Larten seemed the centre of the pack, the other men jumping around his heels like excited pups.

Darren couldn't help contain the tears which suddenly spurted around his eyes; the last time he had seen this man was high above a pit of fiery stakes, plummeting to his death to save his friends.

"Lar'en, gimme a hug!" a very drunk man staggered beside him, a smaller vampire but obviously a close friend to Larten's. He threw his arms around Larten, the orange haired young man picking him up and spinning him around till he became a blur on the cobbles, both men falling to their arses and laughing drunkenly.

"Westaaaaaarr! My bottle's empty!" Larten shrieked in hysterics, throwing what appeared to have been a bottle of vodka high up in the air, narrowly missing his head as it smashed to the ground.

"You two fools comin'?" a fatter, rat like man called from the main group, looking at Larten and this 'Westaaaaaaaaaaar', clearly annoyed at their state.

Darren could only stare in utter shock at his mentor's drunken state, disapprovingly watching as his friends allowed him to near smash a bottle on his face. It surprised him how protective he suddenly felt but couldn't mull on it, realizing he had to follow on and keep track of his one-time mentor. He couldn't afford to lose him. After all; he and one shot and one shot only to change the future.

**First Fic- YAY! Finally got round to writing my own after reviewing lots of others lol. **

**So basically, Darren's having to go back in time and try and stop Mr Crepsley blooding him so Mr Tiny's prophecy will never happen. Once I've completed it I'm gonna make it a crossover with the Saga of Larten Crepsley but I doubt it'll have much to do with that Saga because I didn't really like it all that much. Total lack of Arra! :(**

**Well, in this fic there'll be Arra for sure! Lots and lots of drunken fluff...but a lot of bad, tear jerking bits :(**

**Anyways; please enjoy! Spare me a review if you could, just so I can decide if this is worth continuing :L**

**toodle-pip!**


	2. Hungover

Darren didn't stay far from Larten that morning. In fact, he was in the adjacent room with a glass to his ear, the rim of which was pressed against the wall as Darren listened on to his mentor. Even the sound of his alcohol laboured breathing amazed Darren.

Though-out the day he had dreamt of Larten, a sped up version of life together from dawn till dusk, his blooding and Larten's death. Tears would spring up in Darren's eyes if he lingered on those lonely months, where even Harkat, Mr Tall and Vancha couldn't offer if solace.

Not that any of that mattered. Darren couldn't tell Larten anything of his destined future; years of Mr Tiny, Evanna and Mr Tall's gift of foresight but inability to interfere had taught Darren well.

As far as Mr Cre- Larten.

As far as Larten knew, he was a young vampire in the Prime of his life.

"Urgh-urrp!"

Darren chuckled, hearing someone throw up next door and concluding it was either Larten or Westaaaaaar as they had been the most drunk in their group.

Larten lifted his head from the bed pan and looked across at Wester, his blood brother lookingas ill as Larten felt. He wiped the dribble from his chin and rubbed a stray tear from his eye, clearing his throat as he sat back and took in three deep breaths. Boy did he hate hangovers.

"I remember nothing," Wester complained as he sat up very slowly and examined himself carefully.

"I remember getting oral from a whore," Larten laughed, wincing as even his own laughter hurt his throbbing head, "Out in the back. Great pair of bosoms on her in'all. 'Twas a decent attempt too. Her throat will be raw this morning,"

"In your dreams," Wester sniggered, standing up and scratching his crotch as he walked to the window to light up a cigarette.

"What do you mean?" Larten frowned.

Wester laughed himself now, "You making someone's throat ache? Pfft. Your hair might be shocking but there is nought impressive below the belt."

Darren had to step away from the window as a fight appeared to break out, laughing himself a little. Evanna had offered him a chance to finally get to know his mentor in a more in depth way without having to worry about over stepping the pupil-teacher boundaries.

When he heard the two boys next door moving around then exiting their room and walking down the corridor, Darren hurriedly followed, leaving a few seconds after Wester and Larten.

-Le line-

"Extra bacon for you strappin' young men," the land lady stated, dropping extra helpings of pork on Larten and Wester's plate as the two boys shovelled food down their throats in a bid to rid themselves of their hangover.

Though Darren didn't find the food appealing at all, sitting a few tables across and picking at a plate of some strange shit; lard on toast. It was disgusting, worse than the stew Mr Crepsley had Darren make every single day. Ulugh!

"Gonna shave that beard, Wester?" Larten asked between loud and messy eating, burping loudly as he forced himself to drink from a pint mug. Darren couldn't believe how un-Crepsley Larten was acting.

"Don't really think I should," Wester shrugged, slapping his chops, "I'm attempting to grow a moustache,"

Larten's laughter was loud and filled the tavern. "For the love of the Gods, please, please, please grow a moustache. Then stand beside me so that I will appear to be the handsome brother,"

"Sticks and stones, brother, sticks an-" Wester's nose tilted to the roof and he breathed in three deep breaths before looking directly at Darren.

Darren could only stare back, jaw slack as his eyes bulged. BROTHER?

Before Darren knew what was happening, Larten was making a move towards him, fangs bared in a vicious snarl that saw the tavern growing quiet.

"Outside." He spat furiously, grabbing Darren by the shirt and dragging him towards the door that Wester was holding.

Darren could only gulp, nod and stand. Even as a young man, Larten would always be Darren's mentor and, for that reason, Darren would follow his ever order.


	3. Reprise 2

"What're you doing here?" Larten spat, hooking Darren in the belly whilst Wester held him from behind.

Darren's breath caught in his throat; Did Larten know him?

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Wester growled, twisting Darren's arm. "This is where our pack hunts!"

"Who are you and who the hell blooded such a disgrace to the race!" Larten pressed, Darren unable to hide a grin which was quickly wiped off his face as his mentor's fist collided with his chops.

"I was blooded by…by Gavner Purl!" Darren spat out, heart racing as he looked at Larten's demented eyes, internally sighing with relief as he appeared not to know this 'Gavner Purl' fellow.

To confirm he hadn't a clue who Gavner was, Larten snarled, "Who on earth is that?"

Obviously Larten was yet to meet Gavner…Darren guessed it would be better to cross that bridge when it arrived but if there was a hundred or so years between Larten and Gavner then it would be a while before his mentor met his long term friend.

"Do you know what we do to cubs on their own?" Wester hissed in Darren's ear, something in the man's voice making Darren shiver with cold.

"N-no," Darren stammered slightly, looking back into Larten's intense gaze; he truly was a wicked beast of a man when he put his mind to it. Darren had only ever seen him behave so hostile towards vampaneze, never once did he dream he would be on the receiving end.

"We cut off their testes with a blunt butter knife," Larten said with complete seriousness as his hands went to rummage within his pockets for such a weapon. That was when Darren began to fight against Wester's grip, trying to rip himself free. This wasn't the Larten he knew, this was a beastly evil boy.

Darren's salvation came from the mouth of the alley; a well dressed, rat faced man chewing the end of a tooth pick in a sly manner.

"Larten, Wester? You're terrifying the poor soul," he said in a voice of silk though with two narrowed eyes which Darren felt too close together.

"Ah, Tanish! We was only having a bit of fun," Wester chuckled, letting Darren go and fixing him with a suddenly friendly smile, sticking out a hand for Darren to shake, "The name's Flack, Wester Flack."

"But you can call him maggot," Larten chimed in sweetly, waving his pinky finger at Wester mockingly.

As though sensing Wester's lunge, Tanish intercepted and grabbed the youth by the braces of his trousers, "Boys! Boys, behave. I wont have my pack fighting each other before a new recruit," Tanish' dark eyes flashed at Darren and he smiled toothily, "You wish to join us, I am assuming?"

"Well-um-yes," Darren nodded, sticking his hand out to Larten, "I'm Darren, Darren Shan,"

"Larten Crepsley, Quicksilver to my various affairs," Larten grinned, slapping Darren's back almost joyfully, "Great to have you aboard Darren Shan, of Gavner Purl."

"Thanks," Darren nodded, in a daze, unsure what he had exactly agreed to join, following the three vampires out of the alley on instinct and following them back out into the Inn where a few other vampires were already sat drinking.

"We've fresh meat, team!" Tanish howled, slapping Darren's back hard, "You know what that means," he said, giving Darren an almost deadly grin.

**Just a short chapter, more is coming today (:**

**Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! Please keep them coming, they really make my day!**

**Does anyone have any good DS FF they could recommend? It sounds so bad but there's so many out there I'll be here for ages finding ones I really like because I'm always using my phone on this site ha ): I loved the TVF's and The Sixth path of Destiny; both really good and there's some amazin' poetry out there too! :D Lol, next chapter soon hopefully.**


	4. Rum

Rum.

Rum.

Rum.

Rum.

Darren was sick of the smell after the first barrel the Cubs devoured, let alone the third. He attempted to sample the putrid dark liquid, choking it down as tears streamed from his eyes.

"You starting to feel buzzed, Wester?" Larten asked, watching as his brother tripped over his own feet and stumble forwards into the tavern's more secluded booth. They were going to drink up, hit the brothels then either return to the Inn or find a women and spend the day with her. An ideal life for a young Bachelor, Darren thought.

"Not yet, brother." Wester said, though there was an obvious rosy red to his cheeks, handing Larten and Darren their pints before making a start on his. "So where you from, Darren? Your name is slightly queer and I can't guess your accent."

"From –Hick!" Darren gasped, covering his mouth with a curse -Great, drunk on a mission-, "Eh, from England."

"Oh?" Larten asked, lifting an eyebrow and fixing Darren with a strange expression. "I am a Londoner myself. Where in England do you stem from?"

"Eh, the North," Darren nodded, hurriedly taking a drink of whatever putrid concoction Wester had bought the three. It wasn't safe to name names. He had enjoyed Geography at school and so knew hundreds of different places but he failed to know how old these places were. For all he knew America might not have been discovered yet !

"So, where you guys heading after this town?" Darren asked, trying to change the conversation.

"To find some decent Game. Ever heard of the Loch Ness Mons-"

"Wester, there ain't no Nessie!" Another Vampire in the pack yelled from the bar stall, "I've god damn swam those waters every day 'o ma life! Aint no Monster!"

"That's what you think, Hamish. But I would like to see myself, and through Sober eyes," Wester remarked quickly, the group laughing and slapping Hamish, 'the Drunk', on his back.

Larten nodded in approval of Wester's retort, grinning as he took a deep gulp and finished his pint, fingering the froth before going over for the next round.

"I want to find Nessie." Wester continued, tapping Darren's wrists, "It's a dream of mine since I heard about the legend back in my Shire."

"That sounds adventurous," Darren noted, slicking his hair back as it fell over his face, "you mind if I tag along? I'm just looking to see the world before working my way up the ranks."

"Sure," Wester nodded, clinking his glass to Darren's, "You fancy yourself a Prince?"

"Actually, I was setting my sights on becoming a General," Darren nodded, trying to sound humble. He'd done the Prince thing and, if he had a second chance at life, he sure as hell wasn't going to be sat up in that hall for the majority of it.

"Larten's the same. Seba's training us up but, between you and me, it's not something I relish the idea of. Power, yes, responsibility though?" Wester shrugged, "But becoming a General is my best bet in sparking war between us and the vampaneze."

"You want a war?" Darren choked, as he dropped his mug.

"Aye. I want those bastards blown right off the face of this world. We could do it, you know. The Vampaneze are of no significance to our race. They truly are just draining our natural resources. Why should we-"

"Get outta ma pub!" The bar man suddenly roared, toe to toe with Larten. The two were both red faced, Larten puffing out his chest to intimidate whilst the bar man grabbed hold of a cork screw, "Get out! We don't serve your kind here."

Darren frowned, rising as Wester did, the brother ready to intercept at the possibility that Larten was going to get stabbed, good and proper right through the heart.

"Vur, drop it," Tanish ordered, stepping up and pulling Larten back before turning towards the barman, "My humble apologies, Sir. Might I ask what my friend did?"

"Blood. You want that, go to Tenth Street. You're lucky I aint callin' the Father. He should be hung for Witch Craft!" The barman roared, throwing a finger at Larten who stood like a rabid animal. Slowly, the entire pack stood behind Tanish, growling and snapping, looking truly monstrous and dangerous as a unit.

"I think, Sir, it is lucky that you haven't called for the Father. It would be an awful shame for my men and I to have to drain you, your family, and a man of God dry," Tanish cooed with an evil glint in his eye. "Now, either you shut your mouth and give me and my men the contents of your safe, or I let them lose to destroy this entire town. Understand?"

"Lucifer!" The barman gasped, shrieking as the cork screw suddenly appeared in Wester's hand, the vampire having flitted to obtain it so quickly.

"The money please, my good Sir." Tanish said firmly, offering out his hand to which a bag of shillings was given. "Pleasure doing business with you. Come boys! Vur needs to feed!"

With a boisterous roar of approval, the group stormed out of the tavern, Darren thankful that Wester grabbed his shoulder and led him onwards; he was looking out for him which Darren was entirely thankful for. Everything was so mad. Everything was just so backwards. Everything was a fucking joke to them.

Tanish had slithered an arm around Larten's shoulder, tossing the stolen bag of coins in his hand. They were laughing and joking, uncaring that they had just terrified a human and threatened his family and the town Father.

"It's a lot to take in right now, but we'll look out for you." Wester smiled, squeezing Darren's shoulder, "You're safe with me and Larten. Promise."


	5. Liquid Lives

Wester was lovely. Darren couldn't fault him. As the group stalked towards Tenth Street and familiarized themselves with whores and wenches, Wester stayed by Darren's side and reassured him. They found themselves in a dark and seedy brothel house, the sort of place where men wore their finest suits whilst the women wore dated, cheap dresses with corsets so tight around their chests that they pushed their goods out for punters.

Darren had never witnessed a club like this before, particularly one with velvet curtains leading to private booths. He gulped. The last time he had been in a situation like this was back at his old school discos where he and his group of boys stood awkwardly at the far side of the hall, not sure what to do.

"More Port," Larten slurred, Wester hooking him to his hip to keep him steady, "More port then-hick!-a fellatio. You want one, Da-Hick!-Darren?"

Darren could barely understand what he had been asked. He looked at Wester before looking back at Larten who was staring at him like he was an idiot.

"Sure?"

"Good lad!" Larten grinned, tearing himself from Wester's grasp and staggering towards the bar.

"Does he get this drunk often?" Darren asked as Wester led them to a table.

"Yes, he does." Wester said with an obvious sigh, "Sometimes it gets a lot worse. He made a fool of himself last council and since then…I think he's pushing himself, trying to see how much that body of his will take."

"What happened at Council?" Darren asked with obvious curiosity. He couldn't ever imagine his Mentor getting himself into a downward spiral like he was.

"He got huffy," Wester said simply, "He continued to lose fights, made himself out to be something he wasn't, and was defeated. He wasn't a gracious loser either. He didn't keep trying like a true vampire, instead he gave up, blamed everyone but himself, and skulked off with a broken ego."

Darren looked over at Larten now, downing a scotch, checking out the House women, chatting away to a suspicious looking male, before taking back a few rounds to the table. His eyes weren't focusing, the lids heavy as the alcohol started numbing out his system. His orange hair was sweaty, face glowing red. He continued to drink, however, Wester looking a little disapproving as he sipped his own drink carefully.

"You not drinkin' that? I bought that for you, Darren," Larten slurred, a wobbly hand pointing at the pint sized mug before his future assistant, "What sort of name is Darren?"

"A better one than Larten," Darren retorted, taking a deep gulp of port and fighting to hide his shudder, "You not think you've had enough? You can't even sit still,"

"Shut it," Larten growled, scratching his skin irritably before grinning as a hefty built man approached the table and handed over a small tin for holding cigarettes.

Wester moaned softly, shaking his head, "Larten…"

"What's in there?" Darren frowned.

"Opium," Larten nodded, opening the tin to show off to Darren, "It will save till tomorrow, however." He finished his drink, ignoring the looks of disgust Darren gave him. "So, are we going to get fellated or not?" he asked, pulling out a roll of money –most likely ill gotten- and stood.

Darren shrugged, copying him. "Sure, whatever."

He followed Larten, ready to catch him the minute the drunk fell. Surprisingly, he made it all the way towards the velvet curtains without tripping over his own feet. Darren frowned, unsure what was about to happen.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" a whore greeted with a wide, toothless smile that saw Larten's eyes light up.

"You free to give me oral?" he handed over the entire wad of money, "Someone for my friend too, please. We have no problems sharing a stall either,"

"What?" Darren frowned as a woman suddenly appeared from nowhere and took his arm, dragging him into the same booth as Larten, blushing crimson red when he saw the orange haired vamp going to unbuckle his trousers…

-le line-

Wester slept deeply, his snoring keeping Darren awake that morning. Well, he pretended it was Wester's restless sleeping. In reality, Darren's mind was swimming and unsettled.

He and Mr Crepsley in the velvet booth…

It had been a night of firsts for Darren.

First drink.

First smoke.

First sexual experience.

He grumbled and sat up, leaning over and dunking his face in a bucket of frozen water. With a deep breath, he tried to ignore that horrible, nauseating event; Stood beside Larten, trousers at their ankles, women at their feet.

Shuddering, Darren sat up and stretched. He was about to stand when he spied Larten perched on the window ledge, smoking something that was definitely not a Tabaco.

"Do you ever stop destroying your body?" Darren grumbled, going over and taking a leak in a chamber pot. "I mean, seriously, do you really need to do that?"

Larten looked a little spaced out, giving Darren a puzzled look, "W-What?"

"Nothing," Darren spat, throwing the contents of the pot out of the window.

"You want to try a bit of this?" Larten asked, offering his pipe, "Worth the extra price; everything is just, amazing. So pain free and stress-less suddenly."

"What've you got to be stressed about? You go out and get wrecked every night. It's hardly a terrible life," Darren commented, clearly unimpressed by Larten's behaviour.

"It helps calm the voices," Larten admitted, tapping his head and making Darren double take. "The voices of the past I mean. I still hear them mocking me like some wicked ghoul. I can still hear the boys at the workshop chanting my name, wanting my head on a stake for murdering our supervisor."

Darren sat down on a stool beside Larten, looking at his dazed expression and dim eyes, willing him to continue his story. "How old were you?"

"Maybe eight, nine? That bastard killed my cousin and I can still see it all happening in my mind," he took a deep draw of whatever drug he was smoking, "I just snapped and murdered our Master,"

"An eye for an eye," Darren said firmly.

"Not always so." Larten said with that intellect that Darren had always loved about his mentor, "Only the gods can chose who may live or die. I stole a life of a man as far as I am concerned."

"Wester said you were planning to go to Scotland?" Darren nodded, sensing he should change subject.

"Aye. I think Wester wants me to leave the Cubs with him; he is always worrying, so he is," Larten nodded, laying his back up against the window frame, hanging a leg out of the window and swinging it as he watched the noon market, "Where are you heading?"

"Wester said I could tag along with you two; I want an adventure before I really focus on becoming a General," Darren said, glad to see his mentor nodding at the idea.

"I have always wanted to see Canada," Larten commented, "Or Greenland. Somewhere that poses a challenge to us vampires. Somewhere far from everyone,"

"Do you not want to meet new people? Maybe find a mate?" Darren asked, recalling his mentor's tears over Arra Sail's death.

When Larten merely shrugged and took a deeper draw from his pipe, Darren decided he best not push Larten to disclose such personal information. It was probably for the best as well.

Darren dropped down on his bed and let out a sigh.

"I am not one of those daisy men, Darren. In case you thought about trying anything funny," Larten said, exhaling smoke, "You know, one of those homosexuals."

"I'm not one either!" Darren laughed loud, fixing Larten with a smile. "Did I ever give you that impression?"

"Slightly. You did not seem as interested in the whore at all last night," Larten nodded.

"I couldn't get in to it whilst you were moaning as loudly as you were. Now, good day to you, Sir!" Darren declared before rolling over and going back to sleep.


	6. Move Away

_Author's note – Since Darren's changing Larten's history, I'm changing a lot in the original story, in favour of a lot more Arra involvement. So sorry to disappoint to anyone who really really wanted them to meet whilst she was working as Evanna's servant _

The next few weeks were both amazing and awful.

Larten and Wester treated Darren as their own, the three forming their own small, bachelor pack within the cub group. Whilst Larten's weight plummeted and his addiction to all things self-destructive thrived, Darren and Wester were always on hand to lift their sick-coated friend out of the gutters and take him home when he completely passed out carelessly in the early hours of the morning. Vice Versa, Larten would defend his companions with a fiery temper, not afraid to challenge anyone who gave Darren hassle in the pack.

Darren truly knew he was in safe hands when, in a particularly superstitious town, he landed himself in a jail to be trialled for witch craft. That night, Larten and Wester charged through the entire fort, fighting off the authorities with a juvenile glee. They freed Darren as well as several women who were being tortured for apparently causing crops to fail and children to die.

Yup, Darren certainly had lucked out that he and Larten and Wester had gelled so well. Wester especially treated Darren like a second brother.

It came as no surprise that Tanish wanted them out of the group. Larten was a liability, stronger than Tanish and backed up by two close friends. If Tanish wanted to remain in charge of his pack then Larten had to leave.

What a blessing it was when Darren and Wester and Larten announced their leave from the Cubs. Larten hadn't been keen on the Scotland idea but with a lot of heavy persuasion on Darren's part, was convinced.

Scotland.

It was cold. It was miserable. It was horrible. Yet Darren loved it. As he and Larten finished diving in Loch Ness, another failed attempt to find Wester's monster, the two took in an icy breath.

"I am freezing," Larten chattered, hands under his arms as he and Darren waded into shallower water, trudging heavily. Their feet was now accustomed to the rough, jagged stones of the Loch bed but it never once stopped them cutting up.

"Me tooooooo," Darren shivered, mumbling as he pulled of his soaking shirt and dumping it in the water; he was going to mimic Larten and Wester next time and go completely naked; he loathed the feel of wet clothes clinging to him. "Where the Hell is Wester anyway? He said he was going to just going for a shit."

"Probably still attempting; he is very shy," Larten laughed, taking the final steps out of the freezing water and shaking himself like a dog. He used one of their balding towels and dried himself up before slipping on his trousers and slippers. He looked out over the expanse of freezing, murky black water, "Why are we even here? There is no monster, the Loch is massive and there are so man nooks and crannies that we will be old before we even complete half of the search."

"Then why are you too chicken to swim out into the very middle of the Loch?" Darren pointed out, knowing full well that Larten, like Wester and Darren, was afraid of the possibility that a sharp set of jaws would shoot out of the water and gobble him up whole.

"I am not a strong enough swimmer," Larten lied, throwing Darren the towel to dry himself off with, "Besides, I do not see you out-"

"Guys! Women!" Wester suddenly gasped, having charged down the rocky beach towards them.

"Scottish Women?" Darren turned up his nose.

"No!" Wester snapped, "Vampire women, training just up from here."

Both Darren and Larten started at Wester wide eyed before charging silently towards where Wester had just come from.

Larten said in a low whisper, "So is this where you have been?"

"Yes, been watching them for hours," Wester admitted, neither male commenting. Vampire women were so rare, to find a group of them training one another was almost legendary. Especially to three boisterous, hormonal young adults like themselves.

They slowed down at Wester's order, creeping slowly forward with eagerness in their eyes. In the distance, they could hear the women shouting and groaning as well as very loud splashes.

"What if they spot us peeping?" Larten commented, suddenly nervous.

"What are a bunch of girls gonna do?" Darren sneered, the group hiding behind a boulder on the beach. "But just in case, meet back at the cabin?"

"Aye," both men nodded, gulping slowly as they carefully peeked over the jagged edge.

"Holy mother of Christ," Larten gasped out in utter amazement.

Before them stood six women, all vampires, all completely naked as the day they were born. Larten didn't know where to look. They were ferocious women, not like the whores the three were used to. Each was very masculine; toned and bulky with a very defined six pack and thick, powerful legs. They weren't shapely at all, very boyishly built. Still, the smell of the female vampires drove the boys mad.

"Look at that blonde!" Wester moaned softly, grinding his hips against the rock with a pitiful whine.

The women separated into two groups, one dark haired vampiress swimming out into the freezing cold water and leaping up upon one of five timber logs floating on the surface. She took on a fighting stance, willing a second vampiress to swim out and challenge her on the logs.

"Are they going to fight?" Darren asked with baited breath, eyes wide like the other two. Indeed, both women began sparring. The dark haired women seemed to almost dominate the other, casually leaping from log to log before grappling and knocking her off.

"Who's next?" she yelled loudly, puffing out her chest as she whipped her dark hair over her shoulder, "Come on! Surely one of you feels up to fighting Arra Sails!"

Darren gasped out loud and suddenly closed his eyes tightly. Leering over Arra suddenly didn't seem right; after all, that was his Mentor's bird.

"No one? Well, then I guess you are cowar-"

"I will fight you, Ms Sails,"

Wester and Darren suddenly ducked down as Larten stood up tall and proud, stepping out from behind the boulder and bowing.

"If you feel up to it, that is,"

Arra's grey eyes narrowed as the male approached. "How long have you been hiding there?"

"Long enough to know I can take you out with ease," Larten boosted, pulling off his shirt and tensing, trying to show off his own toned body. "Will you fight me?"

"Get your trousers and shoes off and get your arse out here now." Arra boomed, her ego filling the entire valley they were stood in. As Larten abided and stripped down, he carried himself with arrogance and pride, wading out into the freezing cold water before gradually swimming to Arra's side. He pulled himself up onto the log and nodded a 'Hello'.

Before Larten could take on a stance, Arra had round house kicked him in the ribcage, kneeing him hard in the groin before hooking his front temple.

Larten stumbled back, nearly falling into the water but managing to hook his legs around the log's girth, in absolute agony from the unfair smash below the belt.

"Foul!" Wester roared furiously, the other vampire woman gasping, realizing that they had been being peeped on. "That was an illegal Bar move!"

"Might I remind you, Sir, we're on logs and not bars," Arra sniffed, "Anything goes,"

"Still! You can't just whack him there!" Darren also snapped, standing beside Wester with the same livid expression.

"I can do what I wan-" Arra started but was cut off as Larten charged forwards, scooping her up and literally just throwing her off the log. As Arra splattered to the surface and swam back, Wester and Darren cheered. "Best two out of free,"

"Deal," Larten grinned, learning from his mistake and taking up a defensive stance before Arra was even back on the logs. He didn't wait either to attack, throwing a spinning kick at her and following through to another log. Arra merely ducked out of its path and dropped to the pads of her feet like a panther. She stalked around Larten, trapping him at the edge of the furthest away log and meeting him in a fast, vicious, fight.

He punched.

She harder punched.

He whacked her breasts.

She cursed loudly and smashed his balls.

He kicked out in fury.

She kicked harder.

He stumbled back.

She advanced and smacked him hard with her heel into his gut, knocking him clear out and into the water.

"One all!" Arra declared, tying her hair back and sorting her stance as she waited for Larten to surface. When he didn't, Wester and Darren approached the water's edge curiously.

"Larten?" Wester called out, searching the water almost frantically.

"Larten?" Darren yelled out too, frowning.

"Larten?" Arra called out as well, concerned mildly that she would induce real harm onto one of her opponents. "Larten?"

As she bent over to dip her head into the water to search for him, a hand shot out from behind her, spanking her backside hard and with an almighty 'Wallop!' that saw Arra thrown forward in shock.

Larten's grinning head appeared above the surface of the water beside Arra's, the vampiress livid.

"What the Hell?" She spat, kicking out at him even in the water.

"I win," Larten declared.

"You weren't even on the log! That doesn't count! Get back up there and fight me fairly!"

"I do believe you said that anything goes," Larten cooed teasingly, making his way to the beach.

Arra was completely speechless, wading in the water like a complete fool, unsure what exactly to say in retort. For once, she had actually been beaten, albeit by a very dirty tackle but still; she had stated the rules were non-existent so he had won…fairly? She glared at the beach furiously, burning a hole in the back of Larten's head.

"Where are you guys going? I want a re-match," Arra said adamantly, swimming fast to be at Larten's side.

"We are off before the sun comes up. Would I be able to tempt you in coming back with me? The house is a state and we could use a female of worth to clean it," he teased.

The intense pain he experienced in that very second should have come as no surprise as a very young Arra grabbed a tight hold of a very young Larten's testes and squeezed with such a furious vice grip that Larten had to be carried by his boys back to their log cabin.


	7. In The Morning

Darren slept soundly through the day, memories of Arra and Larten fighting clouding his mind. Had that been how they had first met? Had it been in Scotland? Had Darren already started changing Larten's future? Maybe, if the War of Scars didn't occur then, maybe, Arra would never have died? Maybe the two would mate and settle into a married human life?

Darren laughed at that as he imagined Larten coming home in a suit and tie, Arra tidying the house, foster children running around like little devils.

He laughed a little at the image of tough, strong Arra, wearing an apron and baking cakes.

Never going to happen.

As he seemed unable to get back to sleep, he stood and used the bathroom before going into the living room. Larten was on the sofa, his bottom risen on a pillow and his hand down his trousers, carefully cupping himself for support; he was in utter agony, cursing the name 'Arra Sails' which made Darren laugh with a knowingness.

He made breakfast/supper for himself and the other two, Wester coming downstairs in his pyjamas with a messy crop of hair. He sat down and watched, mystified as Darren used what tools he had to produce what would be known in the next century as 'an English Breakfast'

"What on earth is this before me?" Wester frowned, not sure what to make of the strange flat, white and orange/yellow object before him, "It came from that egg, but…"

"You'll like it," Darren smiled, handing him some meat he had bought from a Scottish market earlier in the week, "So what's the plans for today?"

"Well, assuming Larten is fit for travel," Wester said, Larten groaning as he rolled over, "I think we should maybe cancel this whole 'Loch Ness Monster' thing,"

Darren looked at Wester before nodding. He knew fine well that Wester had used Loch Ness as an excuse to have Larten leave the Cubs and the self-destroying path he was spiralling down. Larten had since stopped smoking and using abusive substances, hadn't had a stiff drink in a while and, as a result of the frequent swimming, was toning up and looking overall more healthier.

With a yawn, Wester cracked his back, "Anyway, it's nearing the Festival of the Dead,"

"Don't you mean 'Undead'?" Darren asked, pouring Wester a glass of water.

"Ha, no. The Festival of the Undead happens at Vampire Mountain and is a massive fete. The festival of the Dead happens once every twelve years," Wester explained, "When the moon is at its brightest on a cloudless night we meet in the same hall, in London. It's tradition."

"So will Seba and the likes be there?" Darren asked, recoiling when Wester laughed at him.

"Gods no! Maybe many moons ago but now it's an excuse for the young to meet up, free of their mentors, enjoy good music, meet potential mates and just an all-around good time,"

"So it's a party?" Darren frowned, "Will Arra be there?"

Wester shrugged, "Perhaps. Mika usually attends them so I'm sure she will be present too,"

"Why would it matter if Mika was there?"

Wester chuckled, "He's got a thing for Arra. Blooded her too." He stood and went to clean up the breakfast plates, clearly having enjoyed the egg more than he let on. "But Larten's never really shown any interest in attending them so," Wester shrugged.

"Then we're going," Darren said firmly. If Larten didn't want to do something, they had to do it. That had been Darren's plan so far and he was going to stick to it, "He'll have to come if we pressure him into it."

Wester laughed but shook his head.

"Wester! Help me to the bathroom!" Larten called from through the house, pain obvious in his voice, "I hurt,"

Wester laughed, leaving Darren and going to aid his swollen, bruised friend who, still, was cursing the name Arra Sails.

**Just a short chapter just now.**

**Thanks to everyone that messege me (You know who you are ha!) Special thanks to Preston_Tours for helping me out with the story direction.**

**Thank you everyone for being patient. Sorry it's taken so long. I've been busy roleplaying ha xD**

**-Also, I've no idea what to call these chapters so I'm just choosing to name them after irrelevent songs I listen to whilst I make them up hahaha**


	8. System Meltdown

Chapter Eight

The Festival of the Dead was exactly that; the dead. Not one person in that hall was sober and they had only just arrived.

The tavern where the creatures of the night met was very gothic, like a scene from a horror movie Darren had once watched when he was younger. Or when he was older? After all, movies didn't exist right now, did they? Bloody time traveling, Darren didn't know if he was coming or going anymore.

"I see Mika," Larten grumbled behind a coal black mascaraed ball mask. He, like Darren and Wester, had dressed in the traditional formal attire; fancy suits of blacks and reds with fluffy white shirts and cravats. Their heavy black boots echoed on the dark oak floor boards, though no one paid them huge attention over the noise emitted from a distant stage where a blonde haired human sung vampire songs for her audience.

Wester followed Larten's eye line till he too spotted Mika.

The young General was dressed in a strange green and gold suit with a stunning leaf shaped mask covering the left side of his face. Darren was surprised to see his thick black hair merely at shoulder length –the last time Darren had seen it it had poured down in thick curls to the small of his back.

"Well, if it isn't the three musketeers!" Vanez Blane boomed from behind the busy bar, serving an older vampire whilst talking to Wester, Larten and Darren. "I recognized that scruff of orange hair anywhere! What do you three want? It's on me tonight,"

"I thought it was an open bar at these things?" Wester chuckled.

"Not anymore. The Clan need money somehow for the medical wing in the mountain. This is now a charity raising event,," Vanez laughed, scratching his eyes before smiling. Darren was amazed to see that Vanez had use of both his eyes, yet to lose his sight at all.

"Three ports and a shot of vodka to wash it down," Larten instructed Vanez, handing over a few coins despite Darren and Wester's disapproving looks; the vampire had been in detox all through their trip to Scotland, Wester desperately trying to curb Larten's self-destructive habits.

The orange haired man took three glasses, returning for the vodka as the three took up seats at the back of the hall. Neither had been to one of these events before and so they were each slightly nervous. They didn't know traditional dances, they didn't know many of the vampires present, and worst of all they didn't feel nearly as dressy as some of the others.

All three wore the same black suit and white shirt with sequence covered black masks that fitted over their nose and eyebrows. As they sat back in their seats and enjoyed their ports, a few women sauntered past in revealing costumes; a leopard lady, a woman in an icy body suit, a beautiful fire red bodice.

"Why did he come here? We should have stayed in Scotland," Larten complained, finishing his pint in a ridiculous time before downing the vodka shot skilfully. Wester grew twitchy at the sight of his brother drinking once more, particularly as he went for a second round before Darren had even taken one sip.

"We came here to mingle with vampires our own age, Larten," Darren explained, eyeing up a few of the vampire women who passed him. They were a rare thing and so they demanded the utmost respect from all the males.

That's when he spotted Arra lingering around the bar. In vampire tradition, women were not allowed to buy their own drinks, a sexist rule which was soon to be demolished at next council. Still, until that year, she had to rely on the kindness of other vampires to offer her a glass of wine.

"I see Arra. She looks…wow," Darren whistled, watching Arra's body closely in a crimson red and shimmering orange body suit, a strip of chain around her hip; even at a formal ball she owned a weapon. "Very fiery," Darren complimented.

"She is truly a stunning vampiress," Wester agreed, shamelessly joining Darren in staring at Arra. She wasn't like any woman either boy had seen; thick set and muscular compared to the womanly curves and feminine natures of humans which was perhaps why their blood was burning under their skin. They both felt a burning need to mate with her, an instinct neither male understood as they had never experienced such want before.

"Should I go over and talk to her?" Darren asked curiously, seemingly forgotten about who her future mate was likely to be, "I think I might buy her a drink,"

Wester frowned at that, "I might join you. I want to get my name in there,"

"I saw her first," Darren laughed, shaking his head as both he and Wester made for the bar.

Wester shook his head and retorted, "Larten's a sleazy male, you are a nervous lover. I am the happy medium,"

"I am not!" Darren scoffed, pushing Wester hard before looking up at Arra, "Hello, Miss. I don't know if you remember us but-"

"The peeping tom from Scotland. You were both leering at my fellow vampiresses and I whilst we trained. Where is the third member of this shady little pack?" Arra asked passively, clearly not impressed by their presence.

"Oh, um, Larten? He's, um,"

"Are you having trouble, Arra?" Mika growled, approaching his assistant and holding her hip, those sharp raven eyes glaring at Darren and Wester, "Be gone, boys. Take another drink and drown out the sound and stench of your hormones. You are offending perfectly respectful women with your childish presence,"

"Back off, Mika," Larten growled from beside Wester, puffing himself out and glaring straight into Mika's eyes, "Or are you going to tell me to back down too?"

"Crepsley, this does not concern you," Mika snapped, pushing Larten's chest hard. He leaned in close to his face and bared his fangs, "Arra is mine."

Larten looked up at Arra, the vampiress sneering at the back of Mika's head. She probably didn't appreciate being labelled as belonging to anyone, Darren mused as she caught Larten's eye sight.

"Go. Crepsley," Mika continued, pushing Larten hard once more. A crowd had formed around them, the vampires eager for a good brawl.

"_**FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"**_

"That female is mine," Larten spat, pushing Mika back, agitating Mika to throw a fist which slammed into Larten's cheek. There was a loud snap and Larten's nose erupted into a torrent of blood as a second fist smashed him square in the face. A third punch collided with his gut before a kick caught him in the groin.

"_**FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"**_

Larten forced himself upright and glared furiously at Mika, eyes burning with pure hatred. He charged at Mika, knocking him to the floor with Larten's weight above him pinning the black haired general. His fists ripped into Mika's face, tearing his hair and slamming his head onto the hard flooring.

"_**FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"**_

Mika tried to kick back but Larten was savage, obliterating Mika's face beyond recognition, tearing into his skin with his nails and ripping away flesh and hair. When Mika went to tap out of the fight and surrender, Larten's hand found a bottle lying carelessly on the floor beside a table the two had knocked over. He smashed the end and hovered it above Mika's face.

"_**Get that psychopath off Mika!"**_

"_**Grab'em!" **_

Furious, blood oozing over his lips, Larten glared down at Mika's unconscious body. His breathing was rugged and hard as he panted through blind rage, muscles quaking from adrenaline. Before he knew what was happening, Larten was being dragged off Mika. He dropped the bottle in a haze whilst medics ran forward to aid the messed up Mika.

"What the Hell?!" Darren snarled, pushing Larten hard, "What the Hell is wrong with you!"

"Darren!" Wester warned, Larten seeming completely lost as the younger vampire shoved him hard once more. "I'm warning you Darren!"

"You coulda killed him!" Darren pressed, ignoring his friend and continuing to give Larten grief. "He tapped out!"

"He," Larten gulped, shaking badly as the red haze evaporated, "Do not tell Seba,"

"Oh, I'm telling Seba. You can count your left bollock on it!" Darren roared, looking over momentarily at a stunned Arra who was stood clutching a bar stool tightly, "Larten, what in the Gods name were you trying to do-"

Larten was gone.

"Shite, he flitted," Wester cursed, grabbing his coat and bombing out the door after his friend.

Darren stared after in disbelief before looking towards the gurgling breath as Mika was finally resuscitated.

**That's me back officially now :D Next chappy soon!**


	9. Send Me On My Way

"Did you find him?" Arra asked worriedly, a heavy black duffle coat wrapped tightly around her body to cover her fancy red festival suit.

"Not yet. I followed his trail to the river and then," Wester stated, tugging at his hair worriedly. This was perhaps the longest that he had been without his brother since the two had first met all those years ago. The notion that he had lost his brother made him feel physically sick. Mika hadn't died, there had been no reason to flee. Larten had been angry, yes, but no one was dead. Why would he run?

"This is all your fault!" Wester spat.

"Mine?" Darren yelped, looking up at the distressed vampire, "What did I do?"

"You yelled at him!" Wester shouted, "You scared him off! It's your fault he's out there alone!"

"Me? It's not my fault! Look what he did to Mika! You can't just let him get away with that, Even if we're brothers there are rules and that was not cool," Darren growled with risen lips, baring his fangs at Wester defensively.

"'Not cool'? Where the Hell do you even come from! You know nothing!"

Darren shoved Wester hard, "I know right from wrong and that's something that hasn't changed for a millennium!"

"Silence!" Arra shouted furiously, breaking up the fight, "He left his coat so we know he is unarmed. Take a deep smell and try and track his trail before sunrise. If we haven't found him by then then we telecommunicate to Seba. Agreed?"

When both men nodded sullenly, Arra threw Larten's coat at them, the hidden dagger he'd had in the breast pocket now in Arra's hands. She threw it around confidently as Darren and Wester took a deep sniff.

"Now, we meet at the Inn on Main street at six am sharp, wither we find him or not. Argeed?" Arra was glad both men saw everything her way, particularly as they split off into opposite directions.

Larten was infamously renowned for his tracking abilities. He was cunning and witty, more than capable of setting up dud trails if he didn't want to be found. What's more was that Larten was one of the fastest vampires for hundreds of miles. His speed rivalled that of Vancha March, another fast vampire who, like Larten, was a decent tracker.

Looking up at the night sky, Arra sighed. Behind her she could hear Mika making demands for Larten's head on a stick. Vanez was attempting to defuse Mika's fury; no one was dead thus no crime had been committed. There were others who wanted to see Larten Crepsley brought forward for his cowardice in fleeing the site. That was perhaps the greatest disrespect a vampire could commit and it would be a reflection on Seba's good name.

"Crepsley, you fool," Arra hissed under her breath before flitting away.

_**A few hours later…**_

Darren ran his hand through his wet hair, sitting down on the bedside table. He looked up at Wester, the brother in bits. Arra was yet to return though there was another few minutes left until the agreed meeting time.

Sat in the Inn, hoping someone had found him, Darren's heart was sinking.

"So you followed his trail out to the north of the city?" Wester said with an obvious strain in his voice.

"Aye," Darren nodded, "It went on but I doubled back to come here."

"Arra has probably found him," Wester said with a soft smile, "That's why she isn't back just yet. The two are probably mating,"

"I genuinely hope so," Darren laughed weakly, shaking his head, "I can't believe how much I want them to be having sex right now. I don't think I've wanted anything more in my life," he chuckled before looking to attention as Arra came into the room, alone and unflustered.

"His trail led me South. It stopped off at a whore house. I went inside but he definitely wasn't there," she shrugged, "How did you both get on?"

"Darren followed him to the north of the city and I lost his trail by the river," Wester sighed, shaking his head, "Which means,"

"Which means he doesn't want us to find him," Darren concluded.

An awful silence befell the three, each thinking along similar lines.

"You'll just have to leave him," Arra shrugged, "If he doesn't feel like speaking to you guys then," she shrugged a final time, holding Larten's jacket tightly over her arm.

Darren cursed mentally at the notion of leaving Larten to his own devices. The soul reason Darren was in that century in the first place was to locate Larten and alter the future. How could he do that if the bastard had run away? For all Darren knew, he'd failed already.

Grimacing, Darren gripped his head as it began to throb dully. This was hopeless, a waste of time. Darren just didn't know how to alter the future. He had known such precious little about his mentor when he'd been Larten's assistant and now he regretted heavily his lack of interest. Now, Darren cursed himself for not voicing his thoughts and curiosities about his mentor.

"_Vampires have no secrets,"_

Larten's words back in the beginning echoed around in Darren's head. He only wished he'd asked more questions, gotten to know the vampire before-

A shudder ran through Darren as he quickly closed the memory book, not wanting to think down that path again. He looked up at Wester and asked, "Where will you be heading now?"

"I'll probably head to Seba. I don't like travelling alone," Wester mused, scratching his slight stubble.

"So you'll be heading towards the Mountain?" Arra asked. When Wester nodded, she cracked her knuckles. "I shall walk with you then." Luckily, Wester merely nodded in response, unphased by Arra's presence. "What of you, Shan? Will you come with us to the Mountain?"

Darren looked up at Arra and frowned. His heart wanted to go to the Mountain, to see Seba in his early years, meet Paris and Vancha all over again. Carve a name for himself as a free roaming adult vampire and not as a boy assistant.

_But shouldn't he follow Larten?_

No. Larten didn't want to be followed and Darren didn't want to follow him.

"Yes, I think I will. It's been too long since I was last there. It'll be…interesting,"

**_Elsewhere…_**

Whistling to the wind, Larten drifted down the Thames River on a piece of discarded drift wood he'd found lying in the streets as he'd run away. The water was stinking, raw sewage sloshing around beside him, further soaking his suit trousers and shirt as the wood dipped slightly into the river under Larten's weight.

Not that the vampire cared, casually laying on his back and staring up at the coming dawn. The biggest smile of his vampire life was plastered on his face, along with muck from the river which he'd smudged into his skin as he swept back his hair with dirty hands. Never had Larten experienced this level of freedom, even as a boy he'd never dream of sailing down the river of his childhood to a strange destination somewhere downstream.

He wished Vur was here though. Wester was a laugh but Larten missed that dependency Vur always had on Larten. In a childish sense it always made Larten feel more important than he truly was; like his mistakes would be disastrous but also would bring great pride if he made correct decisions.

Wester had his own mind and looked to Larten as a dear friend, a brother, but not an older brother.

Darren however…

Larten sensed something peculiar about the boy. There were traits in Darren which reminded Larten of himself; sarcasm, Wester would call it, but Larten felt that there was more to it. He had a pull to the young man.

By Gods, he hoped he wasn't turning homosexual.

A murderer, a thief, a thug and one of those homosexuals? Gods, Seba would just love that!

If it wasn't for his longing to have Arra, Larten would have put serious thought into the motion. He wanted Darren but not for anything other than to…to…to-

Gods, he didn't know. Lock him in a cage, feed him crackers and call him Polly?

Nothing had been making sense since Darren appeared and it was hurting Larten's head with the constant numbing pain of uncertainty.

Dismissing thoughts of Darren and his strange need to be with him, Larten began singing.

That infuriating boy with his infuriating song that he'd sing or whistle whenever the group were walking. Wester started singing it too and, on those drunken nights that Larten would require being carried home, he would also join in.

_"I would like to hold my little hand. How we will run we will, how we will crawl we will. I would like to hold my little hand. How we will run we will, how we will crawl. Send me on my way. Send me on my way!"_

**So the group have split up! Dun dun dun!**


	10. Thumper

Explosion.

Darren cursed and threw himself onto his belly as soil and debris shoot high up into the air, slamming him hard on the back. He gasped as a large rock collided with his helmet, feeling the flimsy metal dent and hurt his head.

"Shan!" Albert screamed across from where Darren lay in thick, stinking mud.

Looking up, Darren spied his Lieutenant-Colonel bleeding badly already, a piece of shell shrapnel embedded deeply into his shoulder blade. After serving for two years now, Darren had become accustomed to death, a glazed helpless stare that men with deep injuries and missing limps expressed before their bodies shut down. Albert certainly was no exception to this rule.

Grimacing slightly, Darren wormed across mud and goodness knows what else till he was at Albert's side. Saying little to his Battalion leader, Darren ripped off his Dog Tag and took out a small book from within his bloodied jacket. He checked Albert's boots, cursing that they were three sizes smaller than Darren's feet – the vampire's own shoes were leaking and too thin for running around in the mud of No Man's Land.

Snatching up Albert's pistol and rounds, he continued to worm onwards before finding his feet and charging forward at a determined pace.

It was hard going in the Trenches, particularly for a vampire. Darren was glad he had the luck of the vampires on board as almost every assault he had been on was performed under the cover of darkness, and he'd easy access to blood. Also, he had developed good friends with his battalion. Percy Cromwell, Robert Wilson, Jerry Saunders, William McGregor…all very British men for all over the United Kingdom. Percy, a Welsh man from the Valleys, was particularly close to Darren now and the two always had the others back since basic training.

Darren threw himself to the ground, landing face first in another muddy puddle. With a groan, he spat out pieces of upturned turf before standing with a pant to charge onwards.

Suddenly, as he stood, a bullet tore through his shoulder, causing him to stagger backwards and fall into a massive shell hole. He rolled backwards, bouncing before crashing into the muddy pit. He gasped, saturated in murky, stagnant water.

"Oh, Gods, Urghp!" he gagged, retching as he dragged himself out of the thick mud and clung to an even muddier embankment, staring hopelessly up at the top of the shell crater. If he crawled up now, he would be shot straight out. He would have to worm his way back to his own trench somehow.

"Lie down on your stomach right now," a deep, French accented voice boomed behind Darren. The vampire went to turn but the man spoke again, "No! I said that I want you to lie down. Do so now!"

Darren did as told, lying down flat out, "I am British!" he called, "My name is Darren Shan of the Highlander battalion. Please, do not shoot."

"Darren?"

Darren nodded, "Aye! Darren Shan. I am a British soldier. I have been shot in the shoulder…I need to apply pressure. May I sit up?"

"Darren? It is me, Larten!"

Darren frowned and turned round, not recognizing the male in the muddy blue French uniform. He pulled off his hat and revealed a crop of brilliant orange hair, crusted down with mud, "Larten, Larten Crepsley? You remember? Seb-"

Darren threw himself at the other vampire, his shoulder burning as he hugged Larten tightly. Larten squeezed him back equally as hard, falling back and holding Darren on his lap tightly.

"I can't believe you're alive and here!" Darren grinned, getting off him and sitting to his left, a smile on his lips that was so bright it could have lit up the dark shell. "How did you get here?"

"Do you mean in this shell or in the War?" Larten asked with a laugh.

"Both I guess," Darren asked eagerly, "I want to know it all! Fuck No Man's Land!"

Larten was clearly taken back by Darren's cursing, raising an eyebrow, "Well, I fell in love. I am engaged to a human woman from Paris," he said as he pulled a photo of a very unusual looking woman. She wasn't unattractive but quirky, a 'How high?' sort of girl by the looks of her. Darren could imagine her in a kitchen in a farm house with hundreds of children running around wanting cakes.

"She's a beauty," Darren nodded, handing the photo back to Larten before taking a handkerchief from the vampire to stop the bleeding in his shoulder, "What's her name?"

"Alicia," Larten smiled, clearly smitten. "So I enlisted for her really. I did not want her to feel shame that her beau would not fight for her and the country,"

"But you're not French?" Darren pointed out.

"I feel more respected as a French male than a British one," Larten grinned before nudging Darren, "How about you? How did you end up in this mess of a War?"

Darren shrugged, "I dunno. I guess it was just for an adventure really. Wester's training to be a Mountain Guard, Seba's the new Quartermaster and Arra…well, she's a general now. Plus she mated."

Larten looked a little shocked at that, raising a eyebrow. He hadn't expected to be bothered that Arra would mate; especially now that he was happy living the twenty four hour human life…except, he did miss being a vampire now and again, particularly recently with the whole War thing.

"Oh? Who did she mate? Someone strong I presume,"

"Well, I guess he is in an emotional sense," Darren shrugged, "She actually mated Wester last Spring…"

"Wow," Larten mused. He hadn't been invited to Wester's mating which bothered him a little; why would he feel the need to hide such wonderful news like being mated to a woman he presumably loved?

"Yeah so you can see why I wanted to get out for a bit on my own," Darren nodded before clasping Larten's shoulder, "It's good to see you again, Larten. You look well."

"I feel it," Larten smiled, "I am to marry the woman I love, what else could I want?"

"Well, I would maybe want to get out of this hole…" Darren laughed as he lay back into the mud beside Larten and gazed up at the red night sky.

"There is talk of surrender," Larten mused, "Maybe, when we get out from here, I could take you to meet Alicia? I would appreciate the vampire company,"

"Deal," Darren grinned, amazed how much his luck had changed by merely being shot in the shoulder.

_**Just a short chapter tonight! I'll upload again soon!**_


	11. Coming Home

Dark eyes reflected the twinkling lights of the Berlin Theatre, showing some of the early attempts at cinematography. Darren perhaps didn't appreciate the film he'd just seen, the basic images of sun rises and waves crashing against rocks weren't even in the Twilight bracket, future film making having spoilt these simple clips for him.

Larten, however, teared up like many of the others in the cinema when presented with a film of a baby being fed. Clearly these basic advancements meant so much to the unspoilt minds. It was beautiful, Darren thought, in a basic sense. He and Larten would never see Egypt because of their weakness to sunlight, but to witness the sun rising over the Nile was spectacular.

"Amazing," Larten beamed still as they walked the streets of Berlin, "I cannot believe someone had recorded such images and was able to show us their travels! Utterly spellbinding! It amazes me so…truly I hope humanity continues to advance technologically. Without causing War,"

_War…_

Darren could still see the remains of broken glass from Kristallnacht, the Jewish community within Germany completely devastated by the hateful attack. He had tried to convinced Larten to leave with him, knowing full well what Europe had install for itself in the next few months. Already, minorities were being round up and all though both Larten and Darren held good forgery identities, Nazis made Darren's stomach curl in fear.

"Darren? Did you hear me?" Larten smiled, speaking fluent German. Darren's wasn't as good but he was fearful of being caught speaking English. "What do you think?"

"About?" Darren asked, sticking close to his friend.

"About that smell?" Larten smirked, "I smell some delicious blood ahead!"

"You promised we wouldn't feed in the open," Darren snarled in an angry whisper, "You promised we'd keep to whores in brothels!"

"Darren, I do not understand your resentment for these Nazi folk. They seem to have their priorities in check in my opinion," Larten tutted, "They are radicals, yes, but sometimes radicals are needed I think."

"Just trust me on this, it's a gut instinct," Darren growled back as they headed towards their abode a few minutes away.

Following the end of the First World War, Larten broke it off with his human lover. For a good year he'd taken their separation out on his body and ended up drinking a lot (which is why they'd ended up in the beer capital of the world) but, thankfully, not to the extent he'd been doing as a cub. Nope, Darren was glad to see Larten beginning to become the thoughtful, worldly Mr Crepsley Darren knew he would be in the next century. It was relaxing but also a little concerning. Had he managed to change the future? Would the war be avoided? Would Mr Crepsley still die or would his relationship with Larten change things?

As Larten headed up an alleyway to piss, Darren sighed. This changing the future nonsense was tricky, especially without Evanna or Tiny interfering.

"Darren, do you smell that?" Larten called.

"I just smell your piss. Try drinking some water sometime? It would do less harm than a beer," Darren said in a sarcastic tone before he sniffed the air.

A female.

A vampire female.

A familiar vampire female.

Arra.

"Wester's close too!" Larten grinned widely as he ran out of the alleyway.

His excitement was infectious, Darren's eyes widening as the two began running down the street in search of their companions. Curfew loomed closer but Darren cared very little; the smell of old friends proved of more immediate importance than the Nazi state.

They found the two at a dinner table outside, finishing up a late night meal. Wester was looking well, older with his hair sweeped back into a side parting. He had the beginnings of a moustache too, Darren recalling how the vampire loved dressing up to match the fashion of humanity. He stood when he saw them approaching, wiping his hands on his sharp suit and opening out his arms welcomingly.

"You took your time, Larten," Wester smirked as he embraced his brother tightly, "Gods, you look so much older!"

Larten laughed hard, slapping Wester's back in a brotherly manner, "I look older! When did you manage to grow facial hair? And the suit…you look amazing."

"You don't look too bad yourself, old friend," Wester said softly whilst a gentle hand caressed Larten's cheek tenderly, "Not bad at all. I heard you were in the neighbourhood…we had to come and have a good look, didn't we, Love?"

At that, both Darren and Larten cast eyes on Arra. She looked uncomfortable, wearing an ill-fitting evening gown with her hair pushed up into a ridiculous be-hive. Wester had lavished her in fine red jewellery which Darren knew was stupid; people were desperate for bread, Arra wearing ruby-like gems was almost incriminating. Equally, people were more likely to mug them.

Larten seemed in awe of her beauty, even if Arra felt uncomfortable with make-up on.

"Darren, Larten, it's been too long," she smirked, shaking their hands with that manly grip of hers.

"Far too long," Darren mused, "Perhaps back at your mating ceremony?"

"Oh yeah, probably," Arra nodded, before quickly changing subjects, "I heard you were in the Trenches?"

"Aye," Larten informed, "But I think we should skip that topic," he told her firmly, pointing at his head with a weak nod.

"Human warfare messes bad with one's head," Darren said for him, the pair staring at the ground miserably; Shell Shock was yet to be fully understood, but Darren knew; he remembered history class from when he was a human. He knew that Larten couldn't help it but dive under a table at the clatter of a dropped pan or shoe. They were working through it together though, "Where are you both staying tonight?"

"Well, we assumed you would put us up for the day," Wester laughed, "I haven't seen either of you in decades! We have so much to catch up on,"

"Aye, brother, we do," Larten grinned before slapping Wester's back, "Good thing I have one of the finest bottles of port on the market back at our apartment!"….

_**Mariendorf,**_

_**Tempelhof-Schoneberg borough,**_

_**Berlin.**_

_**23:29**_

…Arra didn't look comfortable, Darren thought, watching her sitting distantly from Wester. Her mate had an arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders but she was sitting as far away from him as possible. She was focused on what Larten had to say and only Larten and Wester seemed to notice it too; he tightened his grasp on her.

"Love, maybe you should go to the powder room,?" Wester asked in the most pompous 'She's-mine-Crepsley' way possible, "Your beautiful hair is starting to come loose,"

Arra looked up at Wester, face burning crimson. She looked completely mortified. What's more, Darren and Larten had no idea where to look. For the sake of being polite, Arra smiled and nodded, looking at Larten for directions.

"Third door down the hall," Larten said with an amused expression as Arra stood and headed to the bathroom.

"Your clutch, my Love," Wester smiled brightly, holding out a red bag.

What would Arra Sails keep in a clutch bag?!

Darren vaguely remembered the powerful, vixen of a vampire since before his time travel stint, Wester was playing with fire treating her like that.

"Oh, my mistake," Arra giggled in a shocking girly manner, accepting the bag from Wester, "I don't know what I'd do without you, Sweetheart!" she smiled, walking away with an obvious attitude.

"So, you and Arra?" Larten asked, Darren seeing a similar puzzled expression on Larten's face as Darren was experiencing.

"It happened shortly after you ran away from us," Wester said firmly, a stern glare crossing his face, "You recall your fight with Mika? You left him blind in one eye,"

"So I heard," Larten sighed, "Darren told me,"

"He's a Prince too, you know?"

Larten shrugged, "Deformities are obstacles to be overcome. I'm sure he is widely respected and I am sincerely glad he made it in his life," he concluded before pouring them all a glass of port.

"None for Arra," Wester shook his head, "She's getting water; I don't want to contend with her even slightly tipsy,"

"That's not really your call, is it?" Darren asked, sipping his drink with a slight shudder; he still didn't have a fondness for booze, "Don't Vampires and Vampiresses have equality in their relationships?"

"Aye. If the Vampire agrees," Wester smirked, "I'm a traditionalist. I like to dress her up in nice clothes and hold the door open for her. She's my property."

"Larten?" Arra smiled as she sat down, "I failed to find the light switch. Could you be a dear and-"

"Of course, M'Lady," Larten said politely, heading to the bathroom.

Arra smiled, cosying up against Wester after offering him a sickly sweet kiss on the cheek.

Larten ventured into the bathroom and reached for the light switch, confused as to how Arra hadn't been able to see it. It wasn't half obvious against the ugly green painted walls.

That's when he spotted the message.

Sprawled in Arra's terrible handwriting across his mirror were the words:

'Five Minutes?'

with an arrow pointing down at a cigarette laying upon the sink. Even with his limited literacy, Larten understood. Wester mustn't smoke which was perfect because it meant he had the opportunity to have a quiet word with Arra out of Wester's presence.

Smirking, Larten began to clean the lipstick from the surface. It made him laugh to think Wester's pretentiously expensive makeup he'd bought Arra was being used to send messages to other men. He supposed he should feel guilty that he and Arra had to sneak around for a few private words but equally, Wester was being a royal bastard.

_Hope you're keeping well, Freda_


	12. I Want To Break Free

Larten had never seen Arra smoke but couldn't blame her; she clearly was stressed. As he closed the door and the two stepped onto the balcony, he couldn't hold back the question burning at the tip of his tongue;

"Why did you mate Wester?"

He watched her closely, could see her squirming a little as she took a long draw of some French brand of cigarette which he recognized from his time in the Trenches. He took one from her and lit it with a mere click of his fingers; static build up from flitting enough to produce a slight spark.

Eventually, Arra met his gaze and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke from her nostrils. With a relieved sigh, she opened her mouth to talk.

"You weren't there. Wester was."

Larten's eyes narrowed slightly at that; what in the Gods name did that even mean?

"Do you love him?" he pressed, unsure what she meant by such an abrupt statement; did that mean that she'd settled for second best? In which case, did she have any real feelings for him or was he just there to curb the urge whenever it took hold? If so, then Arra was a cruel, cruel female. The thought of Wester being used saw Larten's face screw up in anger; that was his brother!

"I guess so. We renewed our mating period for the third time now," Arra shrugged and took another draw of her cigarette, "I guess he's just too traditional; I find myself bored and lonely a lot,"

Larten cocked his head a little and leant back against the balcony rail, "It is a hard world for females right now. You are lucky Wester treats you with such concern," he shrugged.

It was true, vampire women were, like in many other wild animal family structures, seen as subordinate to males. It wasn't uncommon for females to find themselves in abusive relationships if they didn't conform to their mate's wishes.

"Maybe I want him to get aggressive?" Arra challenged with a firm growl, "What if I want him to kick me to the ground once and a while?"

"Then I would say you are stupid," Larten growled, "Wester is a good man-"

"I don't want a good man though; I want a decent man who sees me as an equal," Arra spat furiously, "I'm sick and tired of these stupid dresses! Larten, I want a man like you who isn't afraid to strike me when I want to spar. Because I would hit back and you know I could knock you down completely. I'm sick of Vampire Mountain; I want to be out proving myself not doing what my mate says."

"…I would never hit a woman," Larten interjected. His father had never struck his mother as a boy and so neither would he. "Even if you begged me to do so, I have my moral-"

Larten's eyes widened as Arra's lips crashed up against his. She'd moved so quickly he hadn't noticed her glide across to stand before him. He was horrified by himself, however, as his eyes quickly closed and he kissed her back with as much passion as he could muster.

This female wasn't worthy of his good natured Brother. She didn't deserve Wester, a saint of a vampire who did everything for Arra and more yet still cheated. Arra deserved the worst male in history.

Step forward Larten Crepsley!

He kissed her back whilst dropping his hand to her backside, the silky dress Wester had bought her felt like sin beneath his fingertips but that didn't seem enough to stop him, particularly when he felt Arra's tongue push up against his.

"Mmm," Arra purred, pulling away and looking up at him in a manner that suggested she wanted a little more. "I needed that," she said, "You're a better kisser than Wester. He's too soft and gentle and urgh," she shuddered as she stroked Larten's rough stubble, "This is so much better."

"End it with Wester," Larten whispered, "Be mine. I do not care where I end up anymore in this life but I feel something in my bones for you; something which tells me to mate with you," he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before trying to go in for another kiss. Arra stopped him though and took a step back from him.

"It's always been you, Larten," Arra admitted as she picked up her clutch bag and headed back to the door. "Always." With that, she headed inside again to be with Wester and Darren, leaving Larten out in the cold.

Wester glared furiously as he caught sight of his mate and brother kissing. In his hand he held a cigar he'd found with the intent on joining them.

No.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

How could Larten betray him?!

"I'm going to head out for some Blood, Darren," Wester said softly as he walked back to the apartment door. "Don't wait up."


	13. Song To Say Goodbye

Larten lay in bed with Darren, the two topping and tailing since Wester and Arra were in Larten's own room. Together.

The notion was still sickening. It hurt Larten deep in the darkest chambers of his heart. The feeling of her lips against his were tantalizing like poison which had seeped into his veins. He was addicted and he needed a fix now. It was Destiny, he knew it. Destiny wanted him to backstab his Brother and claim Arra as his own. In his mind he felt the burning need to grab the dagger under his pillow and stake the only Brother he'd truly known since Vur.

Vur!

The ghostly image of a dead child haunted his vision in the dark. Water pouring from the nostrils of a lifeless child, eyes rolled back so much that merely white could be seen under lazy drooping lids. So cold was the child's face that a shudder ran up Larten's spine in memory. Such cruelty for one so young to endure…

Again, Larten felt that overwhelming gush of pure hatred. Blackness of the soul, his overly religious mother would later tell the family's Father when she next attended confession. As he laid in bed now, that anger was back and it was directing him to take Wester's life.

_Do it…_

It was a niggling voice lingering at the back of his mind. It was so familiar but Larten couldn't place a face to it but he was almost glad of it; it's evil longing for blood was terrifying.

_The dagger, Larten, it's your Destiny…_

"Gods," he groaned, rolling over in bed and taking the sheets with him.

"You're tossing and turning again," Darren growled angrily, kicking Larten's backside, "Stop stealing the sheets."

"Sorry,"

Darren sat up and looked over at Larten, squinting through the dim light through the curtains, "What's going on? You got stomach cramps or something?"

"Nothin', Darren. Nothing," Larten grumbled, rolling over to look up at his partner.

_He's more than your partner…_

Fucking voice!

Darren looked deep into Larten's eyes, the eyes of his mentor but also his best friend. Slowly, he climbed up to Larten's side of the bed and lay beside him more intimately. With a soft sigh, he squeezed his mentor's cold hand, "Tell me. We're friends, right?"

"We're brothers," Larten corrected swiftly, lips curling up into a small smile.

"Brothers," Darren nodded with a wide smile, "And brothers have no secrets."

"Aye, they do, Darren," Larten sighed softly before looking up at his dear friend, "How did you become a vampire? And I mean really. I feel as though you and I have met before…in a previous life perhaps."

"Perhaps," Darren agreed with an obviously sheepish smile, "Gavner was a member of a travelling freak show, the greatest circus I have ever seen," he lied. From day one Gavner Purl was Darren's alibi. Larten didn't know him and might never if Darren had successfully altered Larten's future.

"Like the Cirque Du Freak?" Larten asked with a knowing smile, "I often dream of that place. Seba took me several times. In fact, I met Wester there actually during my stay."

"Very like the Cirque," Darren responded with a nervous cough. It was good information to retain; Larten knew of the Cirque. "Gavner was a performer with a massive spider which took my interest…I stole it and, after it bit my friend, had to trade my humanity for an antidote. She was a venomous cur of a devil but I would trade my soul to play with her one more night," Darren laughed, smiling as he remembered having to care for the creature that had been a key part of his life.

"That's horrific," Larten exclaimed, "What sort of monster would do that to a child! Blooding children was outlawed."

"He never told me that until he was beheaded by a general. I've been wondering alone since. Then I bumped into you and Wester," Darren continued to lie, unable to hide a smirk when Larten's face wrinkled up in disgust at the story.

"I could never take on an apprentice. Never. I do not like the idea of someone dealing with my dirty laundry," Larten laughed, shivering playfully as the two enjoyed the joke.

"What about you?" Darren smiled hopefully, "How did you become a creature of the night?"

"Seba found me," Larten shrugged before adding bluntly, "I murdered my boss when I worked at a factory as a boy…I was chased by a lynch mob and headed for a graveyard. He'd killed my cousin, and I am not a man to let my loved ones go un-avenged."

That struck Darren oddly, a fearful shiver running down his spine at the notion of his mentor being so bloodthirsty for revenge. What was it he had said to Darren the night of his death? Don't let hate rule his senses. Don't overtly seek revenge and ruin his life? This was a man who knew from experience the affect revenge had on one's life.

"What was that?" Larten hissed, hand grabbing his dagger.

Darren frowned and did the same, standing slowly. He heard nothing, but the door was open that was for sure; he could smell the outside clearly. Larten pulled up his trousers and Darren decided to do the same, eyes trained to the door as he threw on his shirt also, mimicking Larten who was now in his blazer jacket.

"Vampire hunters?" Darren whispered, his stomach reeling in anticipation. He hoped Arra and Wester were awake but he doubted it. Guns were the biggest killer to the vampire race now in this era of war. Even if Larten and Darren weren't intending on enlisting for the German Army, they would soon have to leave to prevent themselves being forcefully enlisted. Neither could deal with war again. The sunburn was the worst, the mud and lack of blood ranked a joint second and third. Shell Shock. Trenchfoot. Genuine fear.

There were so many reasons why Darren intended to never be an active member of war again.

"It is too quiet…" Larten whispered softly, creeping forward ever so slowly with his dagger hand itching in anticipation. Whoever was outside would be a goner, Darren knew how lethal Mr Crepsley had been with a knife and he was incredibly conservative. Larten was pure uncontrollable anger and speed who cared not for technique like the future him did.

"If they fire guns, Darren then I'm on this floor in seconds," Larten nearly whimpered. The trenches had taken a lot out of Larten and now even the threat of a loud bang was enough to send him into a weeping ball of vulnerability.

In mere seconds the door was kicked open by heavy leather black boots, pistols shoved right into Larten's face, cutting his intended attack short. Darren briefly skimmed over the uniform and recognized the men as Gestapo, wicked cruel men. He was kicked down to the ground, not fighting back against stupid humans with guns; even vampires had limits which Darren wasn't willing to test.

"Jude!" one man roared into Larten's face and Darren could do nothing but watch as Larten attempted to communicate with the man in German. Fear gripped Darren badly and he looked as though he were about to throw up but these men merely sneered harder at him.

At that moment, Wester marched into the room and pointed at Larten and Darren, yelling out in German as he addressed the humans, though Darren somehow knew what he was saying;

"That's them, Sir. That's the Jew dogs I told you off; the leaches of our beloved Fatherland."


	14. Read All About It

Darren was thrown out onto the street, hitting his head hard on the cobbled road. He looked up dizzily and spied his neighbours peering out of the windows with terrified looks. A firm kick smashed into his side and pushed out the air in his lungs.

"Wester!" Arra yelled furiously, pushing out of Wester's arms and running out after Larten and Darren as they were herded towards a car.

"Arra, this is no place for a female," Wester warned, grabbing her wrist tight.

On instinct, Arra hooked him with her free hand, stomping her ridiculous heals right into Wester's groin. "Shut up, Worm," she hissed with all the venom of a cobra before storming out into the street and approaching one of the guards before declaring in the limited German she knew; "I am a Jew!"

"Arra!" Darren and Larten gasped, kicking out to discourage her, "You fool!"

Almost proudly, Arra joined the men with cuffed hands, sitting beside them on the floor of the police van. She looked up at Larten's furious expression and smirked.

"You should have stayed!" Larten snapped, "You could have flitted!"

"I'm not leaving my friends. Not for Wester," Arra said firmly, "What comes, we take, right?"

Darren could see the hurt and anger burning within his orange haired companion. To be betrayed by a brother over a female was soul destroying but for that female to sacrifice her safety had ignited a blazing temper.

"What comes, we take." Larten eventually croaked out of the red haze, "We will stick together, whatever happens. We'll be safe together."

"Arra!" Wester was screaming outside but neither the three acknowledged him, all falling silent as the vehicle began to drive onwards.

**A few weeks later…**

Hidden in the shade of one of the ghetto houses riddled with Jewish and Roma families, sat amongst some other thinning gentlemen, Larten enjoyed a cigarette which he held between toe very grubby fingers. He'd been given the rolly-up from a human who'd a smuggler somewhere, a gift for having giving up his bed so the man's family could bunk together. He'd been saving it for a special occasion and this was certainly an appropriate time.

The captives would be moving on soon, or so the rumours said. Some Zachariah guy was friendly with a guard and found out from them the plans. Larten wasn't sure if he believed him on not, but then again, he didn't ever believe his destiny would leave him to this shithole.

"Can I get a draw?"

Larten looked up at the greasy haired Darren, stood above him. His eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep and his teeth starting to look a little yellow. He'd lost weight around his cheeks and neck too but then Larten had no right to comment on anyone's appearance.

"Aye," Larten shrugged, shifting up so Darren could sit beside him then handed over the smoke, "Breathe right in with your lungs,"

"I know how to smoke a cigarette," Darren huffed almost childishly before inhaling deep. Instantly, he started coughing a spluttering which brought a rare smile to Larten's lips. Second time round, he cracked the method, just.

"That is enough; I've been saving that smoke for weeks now," Larten nodded, "Where's Arra?"

"With a few of the women in the room, someone died through the night," Darren sighed, "One of the oldies."

"That's not a bad thing," Larten shrugged, "Better the old than the young."

There was a moment of silence before Darren spoke up again, "So what's the occasion that you're having your cigarette?"

A second silence befell them before Larten shrugged, "Rumour has it we're moving soon to another camp." He looked up at Darren's terrified expression, "I don't know where, I don't know when. Could be a concentration camp, it could be ghettos, it could be…that. But I don't know."

With a sigh, he wrapped an arm around his terror stricken friend, giving him the rest of his cigarette, "Calm your nerves. We'll be fine as long as we stick together, yes?"

"Yes, I guess so," Darren said but was far from eased. He knew exactly what horrors to expect in their future, Larten didn't.

**-Just a quick chapter for now **

**Thanks for the reviews!**


	15. Radioactive

Radioactive.

The instant Darren stepped off the cattle truck he inhaled the largest breath of his entire life. The smell had been seven levels of putrid, his own trousers messed and crusted with varying bodily fluids he could not expel more comfortably or hygienically. Under the locks of his black hair, Darren felt beasties crawling and biting him. He had complained until Arra had pointed out that lice were only trying to feed on his blood and so he shouldn't be a hypocrite.

"Arra?" Darren called as he watched Larten and Arra detangle themselves from the tight embrace they'd shared for the entire week long ride. Holding Arra's hand, Larten followed on and took in his surroundings which Darren felt comforting; Mr Crepsley had always known how to act in situations like these.

"Aye, Darren?" Arra smiled, taking his hand as well to save them from being separated. They had no goods with them, no belongings other than the disgusting clothes they'd been living in since the day Wester betrayed them but Darren could see the Nazis busying themselves with stripping individuals of small briefcases and bags.

"Stay close to us," Darren stated firmly, squeezing her hand tightly. He knew what happened next, he'd read the history books in school before all this time travel shite to save his future.

Darren knew he and Larten would be split up from Arra; women meant nothing to these humans. It was men they wanted, men who could lift heavy loads and be worked to death.

As if on cue…

A human pointed his gun straight into Larten's face and motioned him to the right with Arra. Darren shivered in terror as he was pushed to the left with frail looking old men.

"Darren!" Larten yelled as he fought through the mob being pushed to the right. He waved and swam through bodies to get to the front of the group where he made a grab for his friend.

"Larten! Larten, where are you?!" Arra yelled from the back of the group as they started to move, "Darren? Larten?"

"Arra!" Larten yelled as he tried to reach out for Darren before being butted in the nose by a Nazi's rifle. He fell to the muddy floor in a daze. "My friend," Larten explained, trying to motion to Darren as another Nazi kicked him to the gut.

When a third officer went to kick him, Larten gave him no chance and grabbed his boot before throwing him high up into the air. Snarling, the vampire lunged to his feet and puffed out his chest as the thrown fell a good thirty feet.

"Come on then!" Larten invited him before being pushed in next to Darren. He felt his friend wrap his arms tight around his shoulders before they two were pushed forward with the other humans.

"Arra!" Darren yelled as he saw the other group disappear behind some greying buildings. He nearly threw up when he heard gunshots and screaming. He grabbed tighter hold of Larten, horrified that he had almost lost his best friend to a firing squad had he not shown his strength to the officers.

"ARRA!" Larten roared the loudest, like a distressed animal screaming out to a missing mate. "ARRA I'M SORRY!" he cried in horror, "I'm sorry. I'm s-s-sorr-ry," he stammered in shock before blacking out against Darren and becoming a snivelling mess as the adrenaline finally ran through his system.

The days became weeks and the weeks became months and then Darren stopped caring. He felt an itch on his thigh and forced himself to scratch it but it was so much effort that he nearly blacked out again.

_**Sometime later…**_

Gods, this was nearly it, Darren thought as his skeletal arm snaked down the cavity which was his lower stomach, slivered up a mountain-like hip bone before reaching a dirty twig sized thigh. He was dying.

Larten's stomach gurgled in pain as he lay sleeping under Darren's free arm. He was dying also, Darren was sure. Lately he spent most of his time sleeping with his brother and attempting to conserve what energy he could to survive a little longer. His cheeks were just empty holes in his face, those dull green eyes were so sunken that it broke Darren's heart. Softly, Darren brushed his ripped lips against Larten's forehead softly to attempt to ease his suffering in his sleep.

Thoughts of Arra haunted the two musketeers now and often they stayed up through the day and discussed how they would rip Wester apart for what he'd done to his supposed family, to his mate! Larten was hell bent on revenge. The mere thought of Wester's blood coursing down Larten's lips as he chewed his throat open was all the nourishment which the vampire needed to keep alive just a little longer.

Carefully, Darren brought his other arm up to enclose around his mentor, sighing against his scabby skin.

"Larten?" he called in a horrific croaking voice. "Larten? Can you wake up for a bit?" It was such an effort to speak now that, once more, Darren felt himself on the borderline of unconsciousness.

"Yes, Darren?" Larten yawned tiredly, head not lifting or turning to see his friend; he was just too exhausted.

"Can you promise me something?" Darren mumbled against the back of his neck, his words sluggish and almost a drunken slur which was difficult to comprehend to human ears. "Promise me… you'll never ever join the Cirque Du Freak? Never. It's important, Larten."

"I promise," Larten said softly, no doubt understanding what was about to happen as fresh tears cleared a path through the mud on his face.

"And… Larten? Do not let hatred rule your life. My death does not need to be avenged. Live as a free vampire, not as a twisted, revenge-driven creature of despair. Do not become like Wester. My spirit will not rest easy in paradise if you do." Darren cried, tightening his grip on his best friend.

"You don't want me to kill Wester?" Larten asked doubtfully.

"By all means do! Just don't become devoted to the task," Darren wheezed as they laid in silence for a brief moment.

"You're a really wise man, Darren Shan," Larten eventually sighed.

"I learnt from a really wise man, Larten Crepsley."


End file.
